


advance notice

by oryx



Category: Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:12:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1520492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man's word is his bond, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	advance notice

**Author's Note:**

> written for fe_fest for the prompt "Fire Emblem 7, Heath/Legault - make plans to steal you away"  
> ...if you're the prompter, i'm sorry that it's not very good :')

It’s pleasantly warm in Edessa this morning – only the faintest hint of frost lacing the windowpanes, and his breath only turns to white once he steps _outside_. Summer (all three weeks of it) must be just around the corner.

 

Hyperion is more energetic thanks to the slightly higher temperature. He’s pacing back and forth in the stable when Heath opens the door, and seems happier to see him than he has in a long while, nudging at his hand with his snout. Heath can’t help but smile as he strokes the wyvern’s smooth scales.

 

“Be back by mid-day, alright?” he says, and Hyperion blinks in understanding (or at least something close to it – his comprehension of the human tongue may be limited to simple commands, but somehow he always seems to get Heath’s meaning). Heath hauls open the stable doors and steps back, then, buffeted by the sudden gust of wind as Hyperion begins to flap his wings, preparing for his takeoff. There’s not much room for such things in the meager courtyard, but he manages it all the same, coming dangerously close to clipping the spire of the abandoned church next door. Heath winces. Between the frigid cold and the cluttered city streets lined with tall, looming buildings, he’s beginning to understand why pegasi are the steed of choice up here in the North.

 

He watches Hyperion fly until the wyvern is just a speck on the horizon, and he’s about to return to the main building when something catches his eye. A piece of parchment with a message scribbled on it, tacked to the inside of the stable doors. He frowns and reaches out to unpin it.

 

_I’m coming to steal you away,_ it reads, in messy yet strangely elegant handwriting.

 

Heath blinks.

 

‘Coming to steal you away’? He mouths the words silently, brow furrowed as he stares at the strange note. Is it intended for him? (What the hell does it even mean?) And who left it here? All of his fellow company members know to give Hyperion a wide berth, much less go traipsing into his stable without Heath present. And they’re mostly a rather somber crowd – somber for mercenaries, at the very least. He can’t imagine any of them playing a practical joke on him just for laughs.

 

In the end, Heath merely puts the note in his pocket and shakes his head. After all, he has a long list of errands to attend to today, in preparation for his latest job. Pondering the meaning of the strange message will have to wait.

 

(And some things, he supposes, are simply not worth dwelling on at all.)

 

.

 

.

 

There’s flickering candlelight coming from the window of his quarters.

 

Heath pauses in the street and stares up at it, eyes narrowing, pulse jumping. His mind begins to race, cataloguing all the possible options. He supposes it could be Fiora dropping by for a visit, but neither she nor any of his other acquaintances in Edessa are the type to enter someone else’s space without their explicit permission.

 

Unwittingly, his hand strays for the hunting knife at his waist. His halberd is still back in the room, and he wonders how much time it might take him to lunge for it. (Wonders if his _guest_ has already hidden it away.)

 

Someone tries to talk to him as he hurries through the barracks, taking the stairs two at a time, but he merely brushes them off with a contrite ‘sorry, not right now.’ At his own door he pauses, breath coming shaky and quick. He places a cautious hand on the doorknob, readying himself. And then he flings it wide open, stepping inside and drawing his knife in a flash, pointing it at the person seated at his table –

 

“Goodness,” the man laughs. He lifts his hands in surrender. “Not quite the welcome I was expecting, I must say.”

 

Heath’s eyes widen. Little by little he lowers his hand, until his knife hangs carelessly at his side.

 

“… Legault?”

 

Legault winks at him with his scarred eye. “Good to see you too, my friend. Care for a drink?” He picks up a half-empty bottle of what looks like Caledonian brandy from the table and pours two glasses. “I brought it as a gift, but alas, I, uh, dipped into it on the way here. And now I seem to have started without you. Terribly rude of me.”

 

Heath continues to stand there, shock keeping him rooted in place. “What… what are you doing here?” he asks.

 

“Hmm? Just a social visit,” Legault says. He raises an eyebrow. “Am I not welcome? Bringing a girl home tonight?”

 

“What – no!” Heath splutters. “But you… You were in Lycia! Why would you come all the way…”

 

“Ah, well. Not as many friendly faces in Lycia as I was hoping,” Legault muses. He takes a sip of the brandy and frowns. “Apparently my old companions aren’t keen to give up on me any time soon. Seems a bit silly, now that most everyone who mattered is dead. But hey. I suppose I should know better than most how deep that pointless loyalty goes. And why’re you so surprised to see me, anyhow? I gave you advance notice.”

 

“… Advance noti – you mean this??” Heath withdraws the crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket and holds it out, bewildered. “How was I supposed to know it was from you? I thought it was some sort of prank!”

 

“Well I don’t know who else would be threatening to ‘steal you away,’” Legault says, mouth curving into an wry smile. “Are you on speaking terms with many other thieves, my friend? Should I be jealous?”

 

Heath stares at him blankly for a moment. Little by little he can feel his surprise fading away into that familiar, confused exasperation that only Legault can bring. He makes a frustrated noise and crosses the room to take the seat opposite Legault, tossing back his share of brandy more quickly than he probably should. (He tries in vain to muffle his cough as his throat begins to burn.)

 

“Careful there,” Legault says, cheerfully refilling his glass. “This is good stuff. ‘Drink it like you’re making love.’ The merchant who sold it to me told me those exact words. With a straight face, nonetheless.”

 

Heath gives him an unimpressed look but takes the advice to heart all the same, nursing this cupful with patient slowness. It’s got a dark, rich taste to it, with an undercurrent of some exotic fruit he can’t put a name to. Liquid warmth pools in the pit of his stomach as he drinks, Legault beaming at him aggravatingly all the while.

 

“If you came from Lycia,” Heath says slowly, “does that mean you passed through Bern on your way here?”

 

Legault’s smile falters just a little, though it quickly rights itself. “I did,” he says.

 

“So you could… You could get me in, if I asked you to? Into the capital, even?”

 

Legault’s smile fades for real, now. He levels Heath with a somewhat weary stare before sighing. “…I could, yes. Things are rather hectic down there at the moment, you know. New king, new laws, the changing of the old guard with the new… Border security isn’t exactly at an all-time high. But I really wouldn’t recommend it. Following after Vaida, I mean. I know you must be worried about her, but she can take care of herself.”

 

“That’s not – ” Heath breaks off, grip tightening around his glass. “…I should’ve gone back with her,” he says, voice trembling faintly. “How could I have just let her return on her own? What kind of subordinate am I? What kind of knight – ”

 

“You’re not a knight anymore, Heath,” Legault says, cutting him off. “Remember? And you’re not a fool, either. Not like Vaida.”

 

Silence falls.

 

Slowly, Heath lifts his eyes to meet Legault’s. His hand curls into a fist beneath the table, fingers digging into his thigh hard enough to hurt. “What did you just say?” he asks. His words are taut with tension.

 

“Oh come on, no need to bite my head off,” Legault says, rolling his eyes. “I mean it in the best way possible. Fools are the ones who make the world go ‘round, after all. If everyone had the self-preservation of a thief nothing would ever get done.” He shrugs as if to say ‘it can’t be helped’ and polishes off his drink. “Vaida is an idiot, Heath. An exceptionally brave idiot. No sane person would ever return to the country they deserted, especially not out of sheer loyalty to some untested young prince.

 

“And I can’t help but think,” he continues, “that even if you’d followed after her, she probably would’ve sent you away before long.”

 

Heath glances up at him quizzically.

 

“She’s sentimental, isn’t she? That Vaida. She doesn’t seem like it, but deep down she’s got a soft spot for her underlings. Or… _had_ a soft spot, I should say. Since you’re the only one left.” He winces at his own words. “She’s a self-aware fool, at the very least. She knew what she was getting into by going back to Bern. Serving your lord from the shadows, never recognized for your service, never able to wear his emblem or fly his banner or march out in the vanguard… That’s not a life any commander would wish for their subordinates. If you’d gone with her, she would’ve pushed you away soon enough. That’s what I think.”

 

Heath’s throat feels tight. He leans forward to cradle his head in his hands, quiet for a time, until:

 

“I just feel so useless,” he says softly. “I want to make up for it. For those people in the village… The ones I couldn’t save. And I have helped some people here but it just – it doesn’t feel like enough.”

 

“Hmm? So helping to put an end to a war isn’t enough to clear your conscience?” Legault’s tone is teasing, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Think on the bright side, Heath! At least you didn’t kill those people yourself. Something like that might really keep a man up at night.”

 

The words hit like a punch to the gut. Heath takes a sharp breath. “Oh,” he says. “No, I – I’m sorry, I didn’t even – ”

 

“Y’know, I hate to impose, but do you mind if I take a rest?” Legault asks. Beneath his perfect composure he looks suddenly very tired – glassy-eyed and wan. “I’m a poor excuse for a guest, it seems, but I haven’t slept properly in days. Ran into an _old friend_ a few towns east of here. Sadly she didn’t seem interested in catching up.” He winks again, but it lacks the easygoing charm of before. “Been on edge ever since. It’s getting a tad wearisome.”

 

“…Y-yeah,” Heath says. “Yeah, that’s… that’s fine. You can use my bed, if you want.”

 

Legault raises both eyebrows this time. “Goodness,” he says, with a faint, sly grin. “Inviting me into your bed so soon? That’s rather brazen of you.”

 

Heat immediately rushes to Heath’s face and neck, and he knows he must be turning a rather vivid shade of pink. “Quit it,” he mutters. “You know that’s not what I meant. I’ll take the floor or something.”

 

“Well that sounds supremely uncomfortable and unnecessary,” Legault says. He gets to his feet and walks over to the bed, sinking down on to it with a relieved, tired sigh. “But whatever makes you feel better, I suppose. It is your ‘house,’ after all.”

 

Five minutes later and he’s out like a light, the sound of his slow, even breathing the only thing that can be heard. It’s strange, Heath thinks. He’s seen Legault sleep only two times before, and both of those times it could hardly be called ‘sleep’ at all – posture strangely tense once you looked close enough, hand on the hilt of a knife beneath the pillow. But now… Now he seems different. Relaxed. Normal, even. Like any other person who just went too many days without rest.

 

He’s still wearing all of his gear, though, and Heath sighs as he walks over, kneeling at the end of the bed to unlace Legault’s boots. He places them on the floor and moves up to unbuckle his belt as well, blinking at the wide array of lockpicks and skeleton keys hidden in its side pouch.

 

“You shouldn’t tease me like this, Heath,” Legault murmurs. He’s smiling up at him lazily, eyes half-lidded. “First you offer up your bed, and now you’re undressing me while I’m tired and defenseless? One might get the wrong idea.”

 

Heath can feel his blush return with a vengeance. “Don’t be crass,” he mutters. “I’m just trying to help you, is all. Sleeping with all of _this_ on can’t possibly be comfortable. Now come on, sit up so I can get this vest off. There’s probably ten knives sewn into the inseam.”

 

“Try twenty,” Legault yawns. He allows himself to be hauled up into a sitting position and relieved of the vest in question. His hair has fallen out of its ponytail, hanging loose and disheveled around his shoulders, and his face is suddenly very close to Heath’s own. “Forget about the rest, will you?” he says. “It’s fine like this.”

 

His hand snakes out to wrap around Heath’s waist and he lies down again, and Heath makes a startled noise as he’s pulled along with him.

 

“O-oi,” he hisses, cheek pressed against Legault’s chest. He’s close enough to hear the faint thump of his heartbeat. “Let go!”

 

“Hm. No, I don’t think so.” There’s a smile in his voice. “We did promise to stick together after the war ended, if you’ll recall. But then you just went traipsing off to this barren, frozen wasteland without so much as a goodbye. You’re rather good at slipping away, I’ve learned, so I’m afraid I can’t afford to take any risks.”

 

_Oh_ , Heath thinks. As the army had split and gone their separate ways he’d been so caught up his own worries that he’d forgotten about Legault – forgotten all about the half-hearted promise he’d made, back when he hadn’t expected to make it out alive. But Legault had apparently taken it to heart.

 

“Legault, I’m – ” he begins to say, but soon realizes that the other man can’t hear him. He’s sound asleep once more, still hugging Heath close, breath warm against his temple. Heath peers up at his sleeping face with a sigh. (His eyes can’t help but trace the long scar that curves along the side of Legault’s neck, faded with age but still somehow vicious-looking. He’s never seen it before, and he wonders how many more Legault has hidden.) He could free himself easily if he struggled a bit – pure strength-wise, he has the clear advantage over Legault.

 

But he supposes it’s not… _entirely_ uncomfortable.

 

.

 

.

 

When he wakes in the morning, Legault is gone.

 

He wonders, briefly, if it was all a strange dream of some sort, but then spots the bottle of brandy still sitting on the table and breathes a sigh of relief. He’s had some embarrassing dreams in the past, but imagining something like _that_ would be… just a tad pathetic, to say the least.

 

He assumes Legault will be back later, but still nearly jumps out of his skin when he materializes out of thin air in the courtyard that afternoon, stepping out from a shadowy corner with practiced ease.

 

“Don’t _do_ that,” Heath hisses, pressing a hand to his chest and taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “Where have you been?”

 

“Hm? Were you worried about me?” Legault says, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “I had a… quick errand to run. So to speak. You’re not seriously about to head out on a job, are you?”

 

“Yes, I am.” Heath frowns. “I’m escorting a few merchant carts through the mountains. I can’t just go back on my word and leave them without a guard on such short notice – ”

 

“Fine, fine,” Legault sighs. “I guess I was being overly optimistic. Can’t expect an upstanding guy like you to just drop everything… But this is the last one, right? Afterwards you’re coming south with me?”

 

Heath stares at him.

 

‘Why me?’ he wants more than anything to ask. (Has wanted to ask since the beginning.) ‘Why me, out of everyone you could’ve chosen?’ Heath has always known himself to be an ordinary person – not special or important, not charismatic or clever. Even his strength and his sense of duty – the only things he has ever prided himself in – pale in comparison to others he has known. Legault’s interest in him has always been baffling, and he wonders again and again if there’s a reason for it. Maybe he looks like someone he used to know. (Someone he killed, even, and the guilt is what keeps him here.) Maybe it’s all some grand con, and Heath is just one small piece of the puzzle, one pawn in a much larger game.

 

Or maybe there is no real reason. Maybe this is just the way that things were meant to be.

 

“…After this job,” Heath agrees. “I promise.”


End file.
